Tuesday, January 11

meet Miss Sweet Pea

What weighs 67 pounds, is between 3-4 years old, has the c-section scar of being bred, was dumped off at a shelter, and was looking for a home with love, affection, and a pension for long walks??

This lady.

Her name is Sweet Pea. Or at least, that's what she was named after coming into the Southern California Bulldog Rescue group last summer. And we like it. So we ain't changing it. Her owners were facing foreclosure on their mobile home, so they loaded up their bulldog and beagle and tied them to the shelter post. Leaving them.

That was last summer.

The bad economy has pushed more than 50 bulldogs into this very rescue group. And because of this severe influx of dogs, not all dogs can be fostered. So some sit in cages. Sweet Pea was one of those.

She's an unconventional "bully" (as they're called). She's huge. Her snout is not as smooshed and she's slightly leggier than the rest in the rescue (we peg this on a little bit of Olde English blood in her). The average bulldog is 45-50 pounds. Sweet Pea is nearing 70 pounds. So she's not a dainty lapdog. But she caught our eye.

We first contacted the rescue group on December 1st. Less than 2 weeks later, we had the group wanting to schedule our home inspection (they require specific home guidelines for adoptions, i.e. fenced pool, no dead puppies in your freezers, etc.). So after patiently waiting until after the Christmas season, we were ready to meet our girl.

On January 8th, we met Miss Sweet Pea at the adoption event down in Orange County (yes, a 1.5 hour drive!). We hid our motive under the collection of our Christmas gifts from Middle Sister's fiance, but in reality, we were wanting to meet her. As well as we wanted the gifts too, don't worry Mom!

So we did. For 2 hours. Then we took the all-important coffee break to discuss, "Is she for us?" "Is this right?" "Can we do this?"

This picture was taken by the organization to use in their marketing.

Then the organization President announced our decision. "Ladies and gentleman, we've just had our second adoption of the day. Miss Sweet Pea has found a home with Mr. and Mrs. Wookie." *hooting, hollering* I believe there were 3 adoptions that day. Hip hip, hurray for pet rescue/adoption!

And after a slight adoption fee (lower than we were expecting...which is always nice), we loaded her in the Jeep. Although she tried to jump in the Jeep herself, because (we now know) she loves her some car rides. Once home, we had to scrap together a list of what we needed to provide a quality life for her. Food dishes, a bed, treats, etc. Thank goodness that leash was included (so was the harness), but that green has got to go. We're thinking Orange. :)

You're probably wondering what sort of trauma/setbacks she's faced since being kenneled for a few months. We were too.

Upon arrival, we did have a couple accidents on the carpet. But we're happy to say that the bathroom behavior has been corrected. It's just like riding a bike. And we're pleased. With treats and positive affirmations, she knows that the grass is the bathroom. And to sit for a "good girl" treat.

And we've also farted around with various commands, sit, lay, rollover...and she can do those too. "WTH?" we thought. Is she a stinkin' showdog??? Who would just dump her off???

So while she's had training before, we'll just be reimplementing the training to make sure she's appropriately behaved at home, out on walks, and with human visitors.

She does do a little bit of whimpering while we're lounging on the couch watching television. It's odd. And she doesn't have to use the bathroom, because it can occur right after outings. So that's the only thing we're not sure about. But she does love to lounge on my crappy college couch, and drool everywhere, which is fine because I'm pretty sure Calvin Klein is adding a slobber detail to his Spring '11 line.

And in the first 24 hours, she killed her first squeaker ball. Finito. Dunzo. Dead. The squeaker ball is going to be an expensive habit. We might have to take her to Celebrity Rehab: Squeaker Ball edition.

Today I went shopping. Everybody thought Zore and Kenny were my mom's kids. Because, as the Old Navy lady put it, "Bitch yo' too skinny to have had kids"It was a good day. I also bought a scarf. I own two now. I'm on a rampage...

Also, I managed to somehow start following my own blog. I'm not sure how to stop following my own blog - because when I tried they asked if I was sure I wanted to delete my blog.Which I don't.

Sweet Pea is beyond darling! What a cutie-pie. My dad would be green with envy; his life's ambition (in the pet department, at least) is to own a bulldog. My mother, wise lady that she is, says he can get a bulldog... when he is retired and can spend his days walking and picking up after a stubborn canine. ;-)

I look forward to living all my dog ownership dreams vicariously through your blog, so I expect lots of pictures!

I am behind on blog reading - but congrats on the pooch! I love my fur balls even if they occasionally make my life miserable (like extreme noise phobia on July 4th, New Years, thunderstorms reducing her to a freaking out must sit on you, shake, and cry for 3 hours).

So, my boy dog, a large mini aussie, chews, I mean, destroys his toys. The only thing that lasts longer than an hour is a Nylabone. A large one. They ain't cheap but they are definitely worth it.

meet me, mrs. wookie

who is mrs wookie?

he's earned ALL CAPS ORDERS back to the great State for Lovers, and I've followed a couple months later. We spent a wonderful 3-plus years along the California coastline expanding our wine collection, expanding our friends, and deepening our family.

he wrapped up sea duty needs with an extended deployment aboard the USS Boat Food Sucks, but now we're prepping for the next best thing in the Navy: shore duty.

once a snarky milblogger, but now a thought-provoking feminist pain in the ass, let's pour a glass of wine and talk about the real issues - like rain water collection in a new home.

Followers

@WookieAndCo

non-official legalese

Blahdy blah…this is all my opinion, powered by good and bad days with the Navy, and the adverse effects on my vodka supply. While we love paychecks courtesy of Uncle Sam, he by-no-way cares whether it causes grey hair, cirrhosis, or panic attacks…blah blah…